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I don't know if I can take another night of this. And I'm not even talking about the Yankees losing. I mean, I don't think I can take another night of not even getting to see them play at all.

For what feels like the 10th day in a row, I was working well past the end of even the West Coast games, and as such had to engage in the now daily practice of weighing the maddening frustrations inherent to a radio broadcast, against the wearying isolation from all things non-work-related.

I spent the first 4 innings of the game at physical therapy (not to be confused with feelings and communicating therapy. I made the mistake of not clarifying the physical part at my last job, and couldn't figure out why everyone was giving me the headcocked, "Hey. How ARE you.")

While at PT, another Yankee hat found a new home. Cap #21 fell off the exam table or whatever it's called, and my polite chiropractor picks it up, admires it a lot, and so I tell him to take it. Kinda like the end of the underappreciated movie "Made":


Bobby bursts in to find Jess in bed with the HORNY BACHELOR
whose nose he broke the week before. The guy jumps in fear.
Jess is startled and coked out of her mind.

I-I-I... Don't...

I don't get it.

I never promised you anything.

How could you let her see this?

Goodbye, Bobby.

Just so you know, I bought you out
with Maxie. I suggest you leave
while you can.

Don't you get it? I don't want to
leave. This is who I am.

Tell you the truth, I don't give a
shit for me. But that little girl is
so special, and you're gonna fuck
her up.

He crosses to go, but is interrupted by...

Take her.

What'd you say?

I want you to take her with you.

So that's what I told Dr. Mike when he picked up my hat. Maybe he will give it a safe home, where it will never have to be subjected to the type of negligence that leads to it falling off a sweaty PT table. I felt like Benny the Jet a little bit. Perhaps the adolescent equivalent of breaking a baseball bat over your knee to secure badass status? Owning so many baseball gloves you can just dole 'em out to those in need, like Scottie Smalls. Just Benny being Benny, ya know.

So the Yanks lose the best team in baseball, with the best pitcher in baseball starting. I don't know if I have the energy to spend time worrying about that. Wish I'd seen what exactly happened. Because when I left Dr. Mike/his new hat/addictive stim machine, AJ had a no-hitter going. Then a text exchange with my youngest sister:

"I don't get why Boston fans can't just say, 'We're all fans, there's no curse anymore, we're both good teams.' Can't we just all get along?"
"Because they're miserable people. Well, 9 outta 10 of em. And 9 outta 10 times a Boston fan's status is delighting over someone else's downfall rather than their own victory. It's pathetic."
"Agreed. They're assholes who are so hung up on hating NY."
"I just gave away my 2nd Yankee hat in the last week. It's good luck."
"Tell that to burnett, think he missed that memo."
"Hm. it's 0-0."
"Not anymore."


"Sorry, I guess you're at work and dvr-ing the game. I won't say anymore."

She brings up a good point though. My first reaction to her initial text wasn't so rational. Amanda is refreshingly, weirdly, aggresive about people who hate NY, which kills me because she's one of those people whose blood pressure wouldn't raise in the face of the Jabberwocky.
But I rely on her to not pull any punches when it comes to sports and not judge me when I take things too far. Now she's going soft? Grumble grumble.

But when I finally got home from work last night/this morning, I'm dozing in and out to the Sportscenter loop, wishing I had any remote interest in the NBA because apparently it's pretty exciting stuff this year. I saw the highlights of the Magic-Celtics game, and it was pretty cool.

Not just the game, but the fact that it was exciting and impressive to me. As much as I hate New England, I just don't care about the NBA enough to have any significantly vested interest in a team's performance. Which amounts to me being appreciatively impressed by the Celtics comeback. Am I watching the same shot on the highlights reel? (I'm not even kidding, that wasn't rhetorical.) They've had a couple buzzer beater shots, I think? I don't know. And it doesn't matter enough for me to look it up.

So, because I can't fake a bloodlust for any of these teams, it's usually not worth watching. Unless there's a fantasy league involved, it's not that easy for me to put on a game where the outcome won't move me one way or the other. I don't root for the Knicks just because they're the NY team, (just as New Englanders shouldn't claim to root for the Bruins just because they're from Boston...another point entirely, but it had to be made.) I mean, sweet Christ is it really necessary to root against the Rangers? That's like rooting against... cereal. Or something else equally unworthy of contempt.

But I did see bits and pieces of basketball in the last few weeks. And the point is, (ironically), that my periphery (at best) attention to the NBA playoffs somehow has engendered a slightly more palatable game for me to take it. It was pretty cool. It was like on par with the ephemeral thought I'd have in college, whenever March Madness rolled around, or Homecoming Weekend: That must be cool to go to one of those giant Division I schools where people are loony tunes for their teams.

That must have been pretty cool to watch if you're a Celtics fan. (Barring one noteable exception.)

And (I know this would for some completely ridiculous reason piss off a Boston fan if they heard this), as a New York fan who's already forgotten what teams are in the playoffs, it was pretty cool blithely welcome respite to not give a shit, too.

I need all my faculties to concentrate on not falling into stuff and also not sleepwalking.


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